


Steady, Aim, Fire!

by UWotMaTe



Category: BBS - Fandom
Genre: Assassin AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, OH YEAH SMUT, Some Fluff, Violence, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UWotMaTe/pseuds/UWotMaTe
Summary: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. An assassin goes rouge, knocking over the dominos of misfortune. Death paints the very path he walks and he doesn't walk alone.





	1. Set in Stone

For the longest of time, I lived in a bubble of bliss. Ignorance guided me blindly and I was happy to follow. The road paved for me was one made of paper promises that never held. But such a thing had become so normal I never expected any road to carry me completely. I just never expected one to break and drop me into a path of stone. 

My world was of plastic. Everything was faked and perfect. My job. My hopes. The people I knew. We were all pawns of a game none of us were aware of. I was a personal trainer. I helped others get into shape. I help set schedules, helped with diets, and determined one’s plans for better bodies. I loved my job. I loved my clients, though I never really saw them as clients. I spent months with them. They were friends and I loved them like brothers and sisters. I was hard on them because I cared. 

I had a routine I kept to unknowingly. Every morning, my cat would demand attention and love just minutes before my alarm would go off. I'd happily shower her with the desired affection before dragging myself into the shower. I'd get breakfast on my way to work, usually something quick and easy. I'd help one of my three clients and check on their progress. We'd break. I'd go get lunch. I'd always stop and talk to the same gentleman who shared the same bus as I did. I'd ask him about his son. He'd ask about my day. We'd both vanish from each other's lives until tomorrow. I'd return to work to help another client or help the other trainers with equipment. I'd go home. Every other Saturday night, my first client and I would go to the bar and celebrate with a quick drink. We'd talk. And the week would repeat.

That was my pattern. Barely anything ever changed. I kept to the script and never improvised. My perfect, paper and plastic world was always the same.

Today wasn't supposed to be any different. 

I went to the bar with Jon. He had a little too much. He grew delirious as hours passed. I had to drive him home. The small altercation of my routine shouldn't have been the end of the world. 

I didn't mind dropping him off. That's what friends were for. It wasn't until I got a flat that stopped my world from its usual turning. I pulled over to inspect the damages done. The streets I'd been driving along had been littered with potholes and I figured this had fucked my tires. I was pissed to find a nail driven deep inside the thick rubber. It was them that I realized I didn't have a spare. 

I went to search for my phone and call for help. Maybe a cab. I dunno, something, anything, really. Just my luck, I’d lost it at the bar and there was no hope in my finding it. So I sat stranded, unaware as the world beneath my feet deteriorated and fell away.

The street light not far from me was flickering its last dying breaths. The moths that crowded around it were desperate for its warmth and light. The dim orange it produced growing darker with every struggled hiccup. It barely cast enough light for me to see my own shoes. 

Despite this, I managed to spot the man a block down. He was staggering something fierce. A hand was clamped tight over his side. He was anxiously looking back over his shoulder and doing his best to run with the limp in his leg.

A car’s tires screamed as rubber smoked. The fancy thing burst into view. The man dared to dart forward, putting too much pressure on his leg. He fell to the ground in a heap, the momentum he had forcing him to roll a bit. I could hear his heavy gasping and strangled chokes from where I stood. The car pulled up nice and slow.

The man began to crawl away desperately. Once he grew close enough, the fading orange light finally revealed to me the mess he was. Blood rushed from a large gash below his ribs. His cheek was swollen and bruised. His ankle twisted in a way no human foot should ever be. He shook viciously. He was terrified, determined, angry, and well aware that death was creeping on him. 

In a world of Barbie dolls and action figurines left to collect dust and stand on display, he was human. His world breathed. It was nothing compared to my plastic palace of staged perfection. His world bled. He bled. 

The car stopped completely. A man stepped easily out of it and moved slowly towards the other on the ground. He stepped on the man’s ankle, earning a hiss of pain.

“Where are you going? Did you really think you'd get away?” His voice was that of a father’s. It was soft. He spoke the way a dad would upon catching their son play with his toy cars. He acted as if the man below him wasn't bleeding out. He acted as if I wasn't there.

“Kill me,” the other demanded through pathetic wheezes and gasps. The man above him laughed lightly. He put more pressure onto the busted ankle. 

“You know why we can't do that.”

The man on the ground squirmed a bit. I watched as he dug his hands into his jacket. The look in his eyes told a story I needed to know but didn't want to find out. He found his pride and brought it beneath his chin.

“If you won't then I will.”

The man above him spotted the gun instantly. His eyebrows shot high on his head. He gave a violent kick to the man on the ground. The gun skidded across the road out of reach and out of mind.

“You're being overly dramatic. Stop this. Let's go home-”

“I'd rather die than go back!”

“I'm aware,” the man grumbled. He got off of the busted ankle and began to scoop up the wounded other. The man thrashed about viciously. It was clear that he was more than eager to break out of this man’s grasp and continue to struggle for freedom. But his attempts were futile. He fell instead into a mess of defeated sobs. 

“Evan!” A new voice echoed gently from house to house, but the owner of the voice yet to be seen. 

“This has nothing to do with you,” the man carrying the sobbing mess hissed. I was surprised to see how quickly his soft demeanor shifted into this scowling monster. He looked scared but was doing his best to play it off. Evan looked around desperate to spot the speaker. Finally his eyes landed on me. He froze. 

“To what do I owe the special occasion? The great Ohmwrecker, known for his mask, now steps before me as an average pedestrian. Do you think you'll be leaving this alive, Wrecker?” It took me a while to realize that he thought that I was the mysterious voice. He removed his own gun and held it steadily aimed at my head.

“That's gotta be the biggest mistake you've made yet,” he said through a chuckle. 

“Since when do you and your people kill innocent civilians?” The voice chimed in, now far closer than it had been before. It startled both of us. We turned to look for it.

“Since when did a rogue assassin care about civilians?”

“Since you took one from me.” I could hear the malice behind his voice. It sent shivers down my spine. The pain of a memory I knew nothing about soaked his every word and I felt as though I understood despite not knowing a thing.

“Mike? Did he really mean that much to you? He was such an average guy,” Evan teased. I began to question this entire interaction. Every word exchanged had a story behind it I wanted to know. Assassin was a red alarm light spinning circles in my head. The murder of an innocent civilian made my stomach churn. One man was acting seemingly out of vengeance, the other was simply doing a job. This was a mess, I knew as much.

“Then you had no reason to kill him.”

“What was it about him that you liked so much? Did you two have a past? Were you brothers? Best friends? Neighbor's?” He stopped and I could have sworn I saw a smile smear across his face, “Lovers? Did I kill your butt buddy?”

The other was silent. Evan was looking around suspiciously. When the silence became too loud of a noise, he rose the gun again and held it steady at me.

“Listen, Ohm, I see this going down three ways. The first way goes along the lines of me killing this man here, and you getting mad. That sounds like a lot of trouble neither of us have the time for. Second, we battle it out to the death. We both know that leaves a risk of both our operations and people being exposed and killed. Wouldn't want that, would we? Or third, give up, come back home to us. I'll even put in a good word. You can get your old job back. We’ll pretend none of this ever happened. What do you say?”

The stillness was nerve wrecking to say in the least. My heart was pounding in my chest like a war drum. There was a brief moment where I honestly believed it was going to break out of its cage of bone, sprout legs and run.

Evan shook his head after a while. He shot me a small apologetic look.

I can't begin to tell you what went through my head. What chaos my thoughts became. In under a second, I wished I had called my mother and father. I wished I had made them dinner one last time, I wished that I could see Jon, Mark, and Bryce all one last time. I wished I'd gotten my shit together. I wished that I'd taken another year of college. I wished that I'd finally traveled like I always said I would but never did. I wished we hadn't gone drinking. I wished I could do it over, stick to my script, play the perfect little doll in this plastic world. I wished the paper beneath my feet wasn't crumpling.

I heard the click of the gun. 

I wished I'd made better choices when I was younger. I wished I’d lived my life a little bit more. I wished I’d given my cat the rest of her treats. I wished I'd called my aunt one more time. I wished for more time. I was all out of time!

I held my breath and waited for the sudden embrace of death. I fused my eyes shut so as not to see it coming. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared out of my mind. I was scared shitless. 

I heard the motorcycle rush at me. I heard its roar growing ever louder from all directions. I felt it whip past me, disturbing the air and tugging at my clothes. I felt his arm wrap snug around my waist. I felt my feet leave the ground and the wind rip through my beard and past my head. Frightened, I opened my eyes in time to see the gunman become but a speck in the distance. I felt the back seat of the motorcycle nudge at my leg and instinctively I climbed on. I wrapped my arms around my savior tightly, terrified out of my mind.

“I'm going to drop you off at the nearest police station. Sorry for the inconvenience,” he shouted over the roar of wind and the engine of the bike. I nodded dumbly. I flinched violently when I heard the gunfire.

“Shit. Hold on,” he grumbled. The bike picked up speed and he turned a sharp left. He turned into the neighborhood I was just leaving and wove his way carefully up and down different streets. Once he created a maze behind himself, he found his way back to the main road and he slowed down.

The rest of the ride was smooth from then on. He didn't speak after that. He obeyed the laws of the road and drove me directly to the police station like he'd said. I hopped off the bike. He stopped me with a gentle grip on my arm.

“Hey, do yourself a favor for me will you?” I nodded. “Don't go home, not to a friend's house, or a loved one’s place. At least for a couple of days. Just to be safe, ok?” I hesitated. That sounded sketchy as hell. I gave another nod. He let go of my arm with a soft set grin, one of which I was barely able to see beyond his helmet.

“Ok. Take care.” And with that, he was off and I was alone at the police station unsure of where to go or what to do. I'll tell you one thing: I listened to him. I didn't go home that night.


	2. Jonathan

Time is a weird concept. It's strange how fast it can pass or how it can seemingly stop passing at all. The clocks had stopped ticking but were sped up hours ahead. I never had a chance of catching up, or maybe I had already and just didn't know. How was I ever to know? The hotel I locked myself away in had no clocks, no real way to tell what time it was other than the light that pushed it way past the curtains and spilled onto my floor. 

I knew days had passed but time had stopped moving. Maybe I had stopped moving. It's hard to tell in a plastic world where nothing rots. That's when I knew I'd become human. I began to rot. I was in need of a shower. I needed a cup of coffee the size of a house. I needed to get up and out of bed. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not on my own. 

A knock throbbed at my hotel’s door. The outside force moved me to my feet. I pulled open the door and was startled to find Jonathan standing in wait. I stared at him as he continued to knock despite the fact that I had clearly opened the fucking door. He smiled at me. His hand continued to attack my door. Why?

I love my friends. I fuckin’ love them. I'd happily put my life before them any time of the god damn week. I'd kill all or any who ever dared to hurt them. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if they left me. But I swear to god, this mother fucker, this mother fucker right there, the one who kept on fucking knocking on the door, this dumb little shit. Ooh. I love him. But none of the words I hold in my vocabulary are capable of accurately describing just how badly I wanted to punch this man, this short ass, in his throat so hard he fell over the railing. 

But alas, my adoration for my friends kept me from doing anything more than stare at him the way my father would stare at me when I did dumb shit. I felt that for the first time in years I understood my old man. I'd told myself for a while that I'd never understand him. What a foolish man, this man that is I. Jonathan wore about him this dumb ass smile. I realized it then that this was a trick mankind had learned for survival. The same reason parents can't murder their screaming child. It's still cute. It's hard to hate adorable things. I hate this prick. But I love him. 

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah actually. You haven't shown up to work in a while and I was worried. I have no fucking clue what's going on in your life but I guarantee that I have a solution!” His knocking grew more and more enthusiastic. It was driving me insane. I slowly reached up and caught his wrist to stop it. 

“A bag of candy isn't the answer to everything, you god damn nut case.”

“No! God-Why do you always assume I have candy to offer? That makes me sound like a creep! Besides, I ate the rest of my candy so I just have teddy bears today. So there!”

Jonathan was something else. In a world of plastic or paper, he was a child. He was a being that needed to be protected. He wasn't aloud to have metal cutlery, he'd probably still have the impulse to stick them in the outlets. 

“No, Jonny-”

“I'm fucking kidding! Those bears are mine and mine alone! I'm taking us to a club. Nothing someboobies and drinks can't fix, am I right?”

Here stood before me not only a child, but a child who was older than twenty one and legally able to consume copious amounts of alcohol and also reproduce. God save our souls. We’re doomed. 

I thought of the benefits of drinks. Maybe forgetting my plastic world and how fake it was would ease this ach that had started to eat away at me. A distraction sounded nice. Something to put me back on this illusion of reality I'd strayed from. 

I nodded. He smiled gleefully back. Silence consumed the both of us as we remained in place. Never in my life had I experience anything more awkward. Ok now look, that may sound like an exaggeration, so allow me to elaborate on some of the awkward moments of my life. There's a lot. So I've picked out only a couple. 

The first and best example was my first experience with sex. Listen, the first time is always cringe worthy. Let me tell ya. Oh my god. 

I had called up this girl who I’d just learned had the hots for me, which was great because I liked her too. So I was a good date. Took her to the movies. Took her out to dinner. I was polite and loving it. They say nice guys finish last. Nah. Nice guys aren't regrets. Most of the time. I was a regret. After a month of carefully planned wooing, she finally invites me over for the night. Her parents were out. 

Sex Ed does a really good job at informing you about STDs and the fact that women get pregnant. That's pretty much it. I walked into that room with all the confidence in the world on my shoulders. I had no idea what I was doing. It was as if I tried to serenade her with some sexy music and all that played was terrified screams. 

Things started out smoothly. I think that was the only good part of the night. It was clear that we were both two horny teenaged fucks eager and itching for some action. It was when she told me to choke her that things went sour. I panicked. I fell, hurting us both, knocking over her lamp, breaking a nearby chair, and I knocked my own damn self out. She then panicked and called the cops. That was a traumatic experience, waking up in the back of an ambulance surrounded by laughing adults while nude. She was there with me in the back of the ambulance. She broke up with me in it. That was a painfully long ride. 

See? Ok, I went through that. That awkward thing. Whatever that was. There’s one moment. I'll give you another. This one a little more recent. Not as traumatic. 

I had been the best man for a friend’s wedding. I'd prepared my speech. I'd helped him calm down. I had helped him practice over and over. It went well. It was the speech part that inevitably fucked me. He arose to introduce me to his newly wed’s family. Instead of saying thank you like, you know, abnormal person, I said I love you. We then stared at eachother for a couples of seconds before he hissed and answered with yeah. 

That's two (2) events of possibly millions. Standing there staring at Jonathan was beyond worse than any if not all of those other moments. He shifted from foot to foot.

“Can-? Can I have my hand back now, please?”

“No.”

Silence fell between us again. He looked around. I had won. I don't know what I won, but I won. Unable to find anything to distract himself with he looked back at me.

“Ok?” 

A couple more seconds were spent like this before I stopped. I stepped further back into my apartment and stretched. I really needed a shower.

“We got time?”

“No, Luke. We have kittens,” he responded sarcastically like the little shit eater he was. I shot him a harsh glare. My thoughts revolved around the idea of closing the door on his fingers. That would be mean. I didn't do it. I thought about it though! He cracked a grin, “It's nearly nine, the night’s young.”

“Alright, imma take a quick shower. Make yourself at home I guess.” 

“You uh, get evicted? This doesn't exactly look like home-”

“Nah. Just ran into a bit of trouble.”

He looked around a bit clearly displeased with my current living conditions. He never was fond of hotels. He prefered his own toilet and bed. I'd learned this early on in our friendship. Something about how he didn't trust hotel toilets because of snakes and claimed that if he brought in a black light the room would glow a bright white. He was careful not to touch anything.

“You could say that again,” he mumbled. 

Fuckin’- just fuckin’ Jonathan man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support! You're all too sweet to me! Have some goofy shit before things get hot and heavy.   
>  ;)


	3. Glass and Glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Still don't know how to write smut. ^_^u

My world had become speckled with holes. It was rotting away faster than I was capable of registering. There were a thousand paths ahead of me. Each broke and branched out into thousands more. Life was a smorgasbord of options. One move could be the end of everything or the start of everything. There was no real way of knowing which path did what. Apparently I'd taken the one breaking beneath my feet. A collapsing highway. 

The club was my new path. My options were limited in my eyes. I hadn't yet seen the hidden passage I was being thrown into. 

Lights were flashing. Music was blasting. Bodies were pressed tightly together in what could only be described as failed attempts at dancing. Groups of friends were seated at booths heavily drinking. A man sat with his friend, grossly sobbing. A girl sat alone at the bar, her chest propped up and out for all to see in her wild attempt to lure over free drinks. It was all utter and complete chaos. It was the perfect escape. 

The booth Jonathan had picked out was cold. Our mugs decorated the stained table with little ringlets of water. We had perfect view of the stage not too far. Jonathan kept the drinks coming. It didn't take long for him to have a little too much.

The world in all its bubble wrapped glory began to spin. The mess of bodies dancing looked like a good time. I found beauty behind every face I saw. Jonathan was funnier than usual. I felt sick in such a good way and I knew I was gonna regret this but I gave zero fucks! 

Jonathan moved to make friends over at the bar. In his drunken state he figured that was a good idea. I was perfectly happy where I was. The stage was all lit up. The music bounced lively and out stepped the scantily clad hot piece of ass. 

God the way they moved! Hips moved in circles, up down, and all around. The way the lights hit them made them glitter and shine. The clouds outside may be heavy and pregnant with the first snowfall of the year, blocking out the stars for what could be up to a week, but I didn't care because they were right in front of me, moving in graceful elegance that drove me mad. My skin burned. 

My thoughts, while scattered and not exactly the best of me, all seemed to revolve around the sight ahead of me. I was just glad that I hadn't drowned them completely dumb yet. A small part of me was still there. I was just happy and hypnotized by the way they gleamed. 

I met his eyes. I hadn't meant to. I don't know why I had. It just happened. I regret much in my life. Eating twenty five Taco Bell tacos right before senior prom was one of those regrets. Meeting his eyes? I'd give the world to go back and relive that moment. 

The lights threw fireworks into the universe of stars that were his irises. I saw worlds I didn't know existed. I saw the future and the millions of paths ahead and the select few I was doomed to take. I saw plastic, glass, flesh, and stone. It all swam about him, clinging to his eyelashes to keep from drowning. 

That moment was when I'd stepped off the path of stone and fell face first down a hidden flight of stairs. 

Everything fell apart in time to the music, shattering with every move he made. Neither of us really knew what was up ahead. All we knew was that we clung to the back of the other's head, an itch neither could get rid of, and weren't sure we wanted to. 

Hours had passed. I still swam in my thoughts sober enough. Jonathan was in the bathroom puking. The stripper had been replaced a while ago. And while each was talented with their art, none had captured me the way he had. He still held me captive in my own mind. 

The hidden stars fell from the sky to bless me with luck, a gift, or perhaps a curse. An angel heard my sinful thoughts. I was a man hell bound and the world knew it. Figured if I'm destined to go, might as well go all the way. 

I found him off duty. He lingered happily by the bar talking lively with the bartender. He'd returned to his street cloths. Had I'd not paid so much attention to his features, I could have easily assumed he was just another drinker alone at the club. 

I placed myself closer. I'd change only one part of that night. I wouldn't have sat so close to the woman snorting coke. That was it, the only wrong in that moment, and it was so insignificant I couldn't care less about her. The cards fell so perfectly, my head still spins. 

He spoke to me first. He'd been picking on the bartender. I made a quick quip that made him giggle. My plastic heart ran in circles inside my ribs. He had the dumbest fucking laugh and an even dumber smile. He'd clap. I'd experimented before in my youth, most of my friends did. I'd gotten hooked on some bad things. But I'd never been more addicted to anything else before in my entire life. I had to hear more of it. 

I bought him a drink. We got to talking. He had such a soothing voice. I could spend years of my life listening to him and never get tired of it. I spent hours talking to him. The night, once young, had grown cold in its new found old age. And again I found it odd how time works. Despite the late hour, we were living like it was mid day. We were wide awake. I asked him if he wanted to go back to my place. To my surprise he said yes. 

I hadn't been back home in three days, in a couple of hours it would have been four, and the first thing I did was bring home another man. My cat sprang from her hiding place. She began to bitch and moan, scolding me for my absence. 

He looked about my place with little interest. He was mildly entertained by my admittedly odd array of what I called decoration. My cat, having given up on bothering me, rushed instead to beg him for the pets and love she had been starved of. He happily provided. She purred loudly, catching my eye with a glare. I had been replaced. 

“She's cute,” he giggled as she nipped at his ankle when he stopped petting her.

“She's a bitch,” I corrected. He laughed again. I can't recall ever loving another sound nearly as much as I loved his laugh. 

“She's social. Most cats hate visitors.”

“You have a cat?”

“Dog. An old and stupid dog. But he's my Buddy.” 

I moved to scoop the cat up and redirect her towards her room. She protested in a chorus of cries. She watched me leave with a huff and decided I wasn't worth bugging any further. 

He was waiting for me back in the den. He'd occupied himself with my small collection of books. Most of which were cookbooks as it wasn't exactly a hobby of mine to read. Nonetheless he barely noticed my return, more interested in my Thousand Easy Desserts book. 

“Do you cook?” He thumbed through a couple of the pages, eyeing the foods that greeted him. 

“If I have the time to, yeah.”

He hummed a bit before replacing the book back where he found it and turning his full attention back on me. A smile played at the corner of his lips. 

“So how do these nights normally pan out?”

“Well,” I began. I made my way over to him, catching his hips gently in my hands. My fingers toyed with the fabrics of his shirt, “normally, I would strip you. Right here. And just ride you on this couch. But tonight I'm feeling classy so why don't we step into my bedroom, yeah?”

“Either way sounds good to me.” 

I maneuvered him through my hall and past the door frame. My hands finally found a grip on his shirt and I began to tug. I jumped a bit feeling his own pair of hands catch my sides, ghosting down until he found my pants. 

He had freed me of my belt before I had the chance to pull his shirt up and over his head. I couldn’t help but chuckle at how the cloth had messed with his hair. It stuck up and out in all sorts of directions. I fumbled with his belt buckle a moment. He pressed a finger gently to my chest.

“A couple things before we start. Some rules. I like it hard. I like it rough. I want you to make me scream and beg. But you can't leave any marks. You can touch. You can tease. You can toy. But you can't cut, scratch, or bruise. Got it?”

I grinned as the buckle finally popped free and his pants quickly fell from their place on his hips. My hands hovered a moment before delicately traveling up his body to rest at his waist. I began to move us other ever close to the awaiting bed. I rested my chin against the crock of his neck. 

“So can I do this?” I asked, sweetly leaving behind a trail of butterfly kisses up to his jaw. I loved how he instinctively craned his neck to the side to allow me more room to explore. I ran back down, dragging my teeth ever so gently over the kisses I'd placed. My hands had found themselves trying to push his boxers down and away. 

His thumbs latched onto my belt loops and he did his best to get my stubborn jeans to slide as his had. I'd pushed his underwear as far as I could for the time being. I greedily let my hands explore the newly exposed skin. He was warm to the touch. He let out a small gasp as my cold hands met the small of his back. I kept my touch light and fluffy, so as only to leave phantom touches down his spine and tickle his sides. 

I leaned him back once we'd reached the bed. He fell light and easy onto my mattress. My blankets rushed to consume him. He was smiling up at me. I felt my pants tug a moment before finally giving up my hips and falling down my thighs. His smile shone bright with triumph. 

I moved to finally free my legs of their cloth cages. It took me a moment to adjust to the room’s temperature. I caught his hands in mine and moved to hold them besides his head, lowering myself over him. I could feel his leg rubbing against mine.

“You shave your legs?” I teased.

He freed his hand from mine to point firmly and smiled, promptly stating, ”No one would care for a stripper covered with hair.” 

“You talk a lot.”

“You ask a lot of questions. So why don't we do this instead-?” His free hand suddenly vanished from my sight. I won't deny the shudder that crept up my back when I felt his hand catch its prize. His fingers were tentative in where they should go. Feathery touches pranced about in all the right places. 

I had discovered in that night the full extent of his flexibility. He was able to move around me as if it were nothing. It didn't matter how I set us up, he could always find a way to get comfortable. As comfortable as I'd let him get.

I'd been painfully gentle at first. I took my time hunting down the lube. I was calculated and slow when I slipped my fingers inside. I liked how he'd squirm in protest at how sweet I was being. He'd twitch if I grazed the right spot. I teased him till he begged. He protested again and again when I removed my fingers all together.

He would let out a song of moans and small breathless sounds. When they mixed with my own album of unholy sounds we created music. I found I could make the tempo speed up when I slammed into him without warning. Change the tempo and the pitch. The noise he made was ungodly. 

I stared down at him waiting for him to adjust. I didn't want him to get too comfortable. The second he looked even the slightest bit relaxed I snapped my hips forward, drawing out a startled gasp. I stayed there, leaning down to ease the pain away with kisses along his neck and shoulder. 

He suddenly rolled his hips. The walls around me moved and flexed. It was hot and I was on fire. It took every last part of me not to grip those bony hips of his and tear him apart. 

I slammed into him over and over. So hard that he inched his way up my bed and I was forced to follow. His hands pulled themselves free from my grip and braced themselves against the bed frame to keep himself from bashing his head into the sharp wood. His legs bounced at my sides. I used them as leverage and pulled him back down to meet my every thrust.

He let out a cry with every snap of my hips. His voice was strained. His words fell dead halfway through. Still he managed to get his messages across. Small orders. Faster. Harder. Go. Go. Yes! Right there!Encouragement in the most sinful of forms. 

My hands attacked his head for his hair. I forced his head to the side to slather his neck, chest, and shoulders in wet and sloppy kisses. 

The sheets beneath us were soaked through. The smell in the air was suffocating. I took refuge in his scent, I wanted to be cloaked in it. 

He let out this strangled sort of noise and without warning I pounded into him. He said not to leave any marks. I can guarantee that I'd left bruises in places that’d never see the sun. He let go of a long held in moan, a long blissful shout of sorts. It was warm, wet, and sticky between us and he fell to a fit of pants. The look he got immediately after was one of aftershock. Slack jawed and drooling, his eyes hooded and rolled half way into his skull. He looked as if he were floating on a sea of cotton ball clouds. The muscles around me spasmed and that sent me flying over the edge right along with him.

I threw myself into him a few more times trying to ride out my own orgasm. I promptly collapsed on top of him in a heap. His arms slowly moved to wrap around my neck and he held me there. I took a moment in his embrace and caught my breath before I peeled myself off of him to fetch a towel.

“So like that then?” I asked with a grin. He nodded, a satisfied sound purred from the back of his throat. I'd never before seen anyone look more happy and relaxed. 

“Exactly like that,” he giggled lightly. I left him there. My cat rushed from her room as if to bitch at me for making so much noise with the stranger. My cat could bitch for years and years and I doubt I'd ever go back in time to change anything that happened that night. That had to have been the best one night stand I'd ever had, and would ever have again. 

It hadn't yet occurred to me that I still didn't know this stranger’s name. Just as he didn't know mine. At that time, I didn't care. It was supposed to be a one night stand. Nothing more. Nothing less. I figured he'd be gone in the morning. I'd probably never see him again. Which was a tragedy, that wa the best sex I'd had in a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> At the time of my writing this, its three in the morning, I've gotten no sleep in the past two days, I'm living off of coffee and canine so I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, but I'm having fun!
> 
>  
> 
> Also I adore rare pairs.


End file.
